


All is now harmed (I forget where we were)

by henribrl



Series: Hello Love, my invincible friend. [1]
Category: Hurts (Band)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Mental Health Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-14
Updated: 2015-09-14
Packaged: 2018-04-20 19:06:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4798955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/henribrl/pseuds/henribrl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All he knows is that winter is near. Summer passed away in a whirlwind and autumn is a blur of memories, black and white ones, dimmed colours, the feeling of being useless. The rain, he remembers well. There was a lot of rain, a lot of water on his face, running down his cold cheeks, breaking on the sharpness of his jaw and bones. His lips tasting salty, another memory, fresh as spring wind, his eyes burning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All is now harmed (I forget where we were)

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this piece in a week, and posted it a few months ago on my tumble brandonflowersz.tumblr.com, and it's literally my holy grail. It’s heavily influenced by Ben Howard’s I forget where were, which is in my top 5 of best songs ever made. Go check it out if you don't now it. Put it on repreat while reading this. Hate me later.
> 
> Songs mentioned (Lyrics): Ben Howard - I forget where we were; Ben Howard - All is now harmed (Title)
> 
> I do not own Hurts nor is this written with the intent do make money out of it. This is a work of fiction, and if you are one of the characters mentioned in the tags above then I kindly advice you to not read on further. If you, as the reader, show this in any way to the people mentioned above bad things will happen. JK. But don't send this to anyone of Hurts or who is close to them. And last but not least, you know the drill, it isn’t beta’d or anything and I’m no native speaker so there might be a few grammar, syntax or spelling mistakes. Feel free to adopt and take care of them.

_“and that's how summer passed: the great diving range, the green green grass,_  
_oh maybe it was peace at last, who knew?”_

 

It's a strange feeling. He is not used to strange and he haven't felt anything in a while, so logically it has to be unusual, he tells himself. It doesn't work but no one ever died trying, he thinks, and then his eyes follow the raindrops running down the window pane. The glass is cold under his fingertips, another unwelcome and unusual sensation, but it's smooth and perfect; there aren't any edges or bumps or mistakes. Glass is fragile and beautiful.  Glass is not like him. Glass is easy.

Easy is also strange. Easy is not what he does, nor what they grant him. All things ever happening to him were, are, difficult, the long road, a torture with no end. He tried to get used to it, once, in another life, but that seems to be far away right now. Somehow the reality slips out of his hands and out of the window, onto the streets where someone different can catch it and embrace it. Reality is a lie and a dream and nothing will ever hurt as much. He's ruined. It ruined him.

The sheets under his bare feet are damp, why is unknown to him; he lost track of time and space a few moments ago. The longer hand of the clock on the wall stopped moving almost 3 months ago. It's a long time, if he's not mistaken, but time is another fragile construction that is buried deep beneath _hopelessly hoping_ and  _destroying desolation_.

All he knows is that winter is near. Summer passed away in a whirlwind and autumn is a blur of memories, black and white ones, dimmed colours, the feeling of being useless. The rain, he remembers well. There was a lot of rain, a lot of water on his face, running down his cold cheeks, breaking on the sharpness of his jaw and bones. His lips tasting salty, another memory, fresh as spring wind, his eyes burning.

Winter is near and coming early this year, autumn seems to never have taken place. On short-sight it's the truth. But he is not short-sighted and it's just another lie less.

He tries to work through the pile of lies and misunderstandings, he really tries.

It doesn't seem to work.

Nothing does.

 

**

 

And he tends to forget. He forgets a lot. He forgot ( _forgets_ ) where they were.  
  

**

 

before.  


****

 

“You know,” Adam says, leaning back so he's laying in the grass in the backyard, “I don't like the warmth and the sun that much but this is quite nice.”

Theo offers him a raised eyebrow, “It's not like I could ever forget that, Adam why-is-summer-even-existing Anderson. Your royal paleness is also an ever-present reminder I would never want to miss.”

Adam glares at him, Theo knows that, even though the older one is wearing sunglasses. “Shut the fuck up Hutchcraft, just look at yourself. When do you ever go out?” he says and Theo already wants to chime in but his friend is raising his index finger as if to scowl him and he feels like a little child, “and it's not for partying? Never, that's the answer.”

The younger one crosses his arms in front of his chest. “That's not true.”

“It is.”

“It's not.  
“It  _is_.”

“It is, believe your lover, Theo.” Paul steps out of the glass door leading to the garden, wearing shorts and a light shirt, as well as sunglasses, that look suspiciously like one pair of Theo's round ones, and carries a cocktail. Lael appears behind him, dressed almost identical. They make a funny pair, these two.

“It's not.” Theo huffs out quietly and gladly takes the cocktail glass Lael is offering. Alcohol seems like a nice distraction, right now.

“Told you.” Adam says and Theo rolls his eyes – the older one always has to have the last word. But he is no better so he sips at his drink – Caipirinha, it's their drummers' thing – and grants Adam with a heartless “Shut it.”

Paul and Lael laugh quietly, sharing glances. “Seriously you two have to watch yourself. It's really entertaining.” Lael says and takes a sit on the little bed they have out here. It was Theo's idea, because Adam wasn't too keen on it, but after the singer explained that it would be his house,  _his_ , literally his  _own_ , not another place they would share, thank god, his friend wasn't able to say anything against it. Though Theo would have bought it anyway; he just likes to spend time with Adam and likes to hear his friend's opinion – after all he's two years older and more experienced. Theo likes to rely on these things.

“That's why we became professional entertainers, idiot.” Adam comments dryly and Theo is torn out of his train of thought.

“Would have never guessed.” Paul answers and grins, taking his place next to Lael and laying his arm around the bassist's shoulders. They make a cute pair, Theo observes.

“Stop flirting, you bastard.” Lael sighs exhausted, he seems to be used to it.

“Honey, you know you're the only one.” Paul sing songs and the singer and the pianist share a glance.

“You're disgustingly sweet.” Theo says and Adam nods approvingly.

“We know.” Lael answers, wriggling his eyebrows, and Paul kisses his cheek, just as to prove the point their singer made.

“I will kick you out of the band, both of you.” Adam takes off his sunglasses to look at the love birds and both of them just stare lovingly at each other, then the drummer blows the guitarist a kiss and Theo has, literally has, to make a disgusted sound. Just to spite them. Because it's fun.

“You would never.”

“I  _so_ would.”

“He so would.” Theo agrees and grins.

“Nah. He wouldn't. He would never dare.”

“Yes he would.”

“I would.”  Adam says then, to end the discussion – it would lead nowhere anyway.

It's a nice day, really. The start of June and the sun is already high in the sky, warming the chilly air up to a point where it's almost uncomfortable to not sit in the shade. But Theo likes to tan, despite all the things a certain band member would claim, so he is sprawled out on a lawn chair, enjoying the first rays of sunshine

It's a different kind of peace than the ones he Is used to. He learned to find peace in hectic and in noise, peace in lights and the low hum of the bass, peace in flowers and the ocean.

He closes his eyes and lets the moment wash over him, warm water and joyful laughs.

This is a new kind of peace. 

 

****

 

Peace is foreign to him. He does not find it anymore and he gave up searching for it long before the clock on the wall stopped. There's no need for it when his eyes are wandering around aimlessly. All the time. No aim. He can't seem to find out. He can't seem to hold it. He lost his aim and his goals somewhere on the road to nowhere. And nowhere is a dark place, he found out, nowhere is June Gloom and nowhere is darkness and nowhere is still and lifeless and grey and black. It's so black there.

His skin is rough and dry like the desert and home is a stranger that used to know him. Home is empty now, he thinks, quiet, joyless laughs and emptiness. Everything is so empty when the light hits the ceiling.

He watches the heavy sky, the ocean of grey and darker grey, lighter grey to break the pattern, and his eyes follow the play of the lights on the walls.  He remembers lights vividly, sometimes, he remembers, he imagines.  But the memories are haunting like a trick of light and light lost its meaning, light is a traitor, the only company he has is greygreygrey everywhere and black haunting his dreams, nightmares never seem to end. Closing his eyes will do more harm than keeping them open and he can't believe it, can't believe it, but he. He doesn't know why.

He tries to stop expecting. There is no one to care about him anyway.

He thinks of the shore, his hands pale and cold against the clean glass of the window, and the ocean.

Water, rough and demanding, the only force to ever break humans, the only force to ever capture a fragile heart – _if you still got it_  – the only force to captivate him. The closest thing to Heaven the nature gave them. But Heaven is a lie, he learned, Heaven is another imagination and hearts are useless and there is no need for faith. Faith will laugh at you when you fall down. It is still laughing, he believes. He is still falling.

Crashing down, where the waves are waiting to bury him. He wants to be buried, deep and deeper, so deep no one will remember. Where peace waits. Where peace will embrace him.

He can't remember the last time someone touched him.

He still tries to wash the burn off his skin.

It never fades.

  
**

 

_“maybe I hold on fast to you”_

 

**  


The ocean will clean him, he hopes. ( _hoped_ )  


 

**

 

'Theo' they say, 'come back home' they say, ' come back' they say, and they all do. Numbness is a blessing, he thinks, and the sand under his bare feet is cold and damp. He will not come back, not now, not never, not to what, who, he used to be because this is another memory, a misunderstanding and he is tired. He is so tired, why don't they understand?, he can't come back and his feet wouldn't carry him anyway. And his heart went down the rabbit whole a long while ago, when time was still a thing he knew. When time wasn't frightening. When time did not flee. But a lot frightens him today, too much and not enough at the same time, introducing an unmoving tragic to his life he would never miss. He is not who he used to be. Fright changed him and change is good, they tell him. They tell him all the time.

The water hitting his bare skin is freezing, another sensation he is not used to, another uncomfortable situation.  But water is his friend. Nature is. Was. He doesn't know. He lost it.

There are a few people on the beach, not much, it's early, that's why, but he couldn't sleep. Nightmares are the danger of resting and resting is something he hasn't allowed himself in a while. It's so hard to live when you can't offer yourself the shelter you need, he learned.  The people are wearing thick jackets and boots, jeans and hats, gloves and scarves. He wears trousers, good ones, a light shirt and a coat, all black. No shoes. His toes are freezing already where the water washes over them in a tragically lifeless rhythm and his socks are stuffed into already mentioned shoes, which are somewhere where pavement and beach cross. His heartbeat is out of sync.

He tries to remember the time he shared the beat of his heart, that unbelievably useless thing, but It slips out of his fingers whenever he tries to reach it. Maybe he should stop repressing and start welcoming. Maybe.

Maybe he should not, he thinks, and buries his feet into the sand, causing the droplets of water to bite into his thin skin and the veins that are full of blood pumping and circulating. Maybe there will be a time when he will feel it again, it would be nice.

Maybe.

 

****

 

It's golden hour on a late summer day and Theo is laying on the bed in his backyard, watching the sun go down and toying  around with lyrics  in his head. They are all rough and only outlined right now but he knows the moment Adam will lay his fingertips on them the first wonderful songs are only a matter of time. Adam is really talented, Theo muses, and watches a small cloud disturbing the flawless sky.  Adam is also really good looking and sweet and funny and he always has been and before Theo can think any longer about his best friend in  _that_ way, he catches himself blushing.

He really should stop thinking about Adam like this. Paul and Lael already tease them all the time and there is definitely no reason to fuel such behavior. God bless Pete, who's not even interested in such things.

Because it's getting colder now, the sun setting fast, he grabs the blanket laying around and snuggles bank into the sea of cushions. It's quiet and wonderful and peaceful and Theo could definitely get used to it. Purchasing a home for his own was one of the best ideas he ever had  _ever_. Not having to feel guilty for taking the bed is also one of the best things ever.

He closes his eyes, the scenery behind them is a light purple. Lavender, almost.

“Theo?”

The voice is quiet and a blur, but familiar nonetheless. The singer opens his heavy eyelids slowly.

The face is also blurry but familiar and his guitarist is staring confused at him.

“Adam.” he mumbles and reaches out for the older one. Adam sighs and rolls his eyes and even though Theo can't see it he knows, because, well, it's  _Adam_. He knows everything about Adam.

“C'mon you little sleepy bambi, do you want to stay here or should I get you to your bed?” he teases.

Theo wants to protest because Adam called him bambi again but  the whole situation is just a bit wild and way too comfortable to interrupt. So he sneaks his arms around Adams neck – he only now realizes Adam is wearing a shirt and a light jacket, all in black and grey – and tugs him down on his level.

“Theo.” Adam warns but obliges  and Theo is pretty happy when there's another solid and warm body next to him.

“Wait, wait Theo, I have to get my shoes off.” The singer hums quietly and nuzzles his head into the fabric of Adam's pants, right under his hipbone. Adam is warm, as if he spent the whole day out on the sun, unusual but probably what he  did, and he smells like home and shelter and their past.

“Seriously Theo, next time you fall asleep here just, I don't know, keep your stupid phone on and don't mute it. Really, the one time I need you to answer me because I'm worrying my head off is, when you're not on your mobile.” Adam gently says and lays down next to the dark haired singer, his arm around Theo's waist.

“M' sorry.” Theo answers, because he genuinely is. Adam is warm and perfect next to him and maybe he blushes a bit but no one sees ans no one knows despite the chilly night air and himself. A secret safe, where it should be.

“It's okay, you big ol' sleephead. Close your eyes. You deserve the rest.” Adam has to be an angel, Theo is sure. Maybe he's also a bit sleep deprived but that's another story entirely.

“Did nothing the whole day.” he grumbles and buries his head in the fabric of the older one's shirt now, which also smells like him and that's quite nice and always helps Theo fall asleep. The blanket is safely draped over them and it's warm and comfortable right now and he feels at ease with his mind and the world. Falling asleep with Adam always seemed to be easier somehow.

“But your head did something the whole day, I know you, Theo.” the pianist sighs and okay, maybe he got a point there, but that doesn't really matter, does it? Adam just always wants to be the one who's right.

“Hmm. Now shut up. M' tired.” he agrees quietly and then yawns, using the moment to huddle closer, pressed against Adam's side, his arm thrown over the soft stomach, causing his living pillow to roll his eyes.

“Love you too.” Adam says then and pets his hair with his free hand, the other still wrapped around Theo's waist and if Theo would be bold (which he isn't. He's  _bambi_ ) he would take this one and intertwine their fingers but Adam would probably slap him on the head. They aren't like this.

“Love you.”

They have always been so close to each other.

 

****

  
Too close.

 

**

Winter is still and lifeless, days and nights slipping together easily until they are nothing but black and white, a mass of dull events, handshakes and a few phone calls.

They are all so worried about him but he brushes it off, as if he were a tree losing his leafs, because he knows they don't care – they never do. They pretend to care, they are all so good at pretending but he can detect the lies and the false smiles, after all he's the one who's best at it. Never fight against a champion, he always says. You will lose anyway. He doesn't know if he's the winner or the loser – and they don't know him anymore and he doesn't want to know them. He wants to be alone, wants to be a breeze, uninterrupted and peaceful. Peace is so strange, he wants to remember but he can't.

He  _can't_.

He's watching the sun rise, the pale rosy light change into fierce red and orange, at least that's what he imagines when he thinks of mornings, spent in the glory of love and freedom.

But a cage is what his life became, some time ago. A cage with nowhere to go and only death as escape route. He doesn't want to die and he is too young to die anyway, so what's the conclusion? Where is the reason for all his pain and the misleading events he had to endure? No one knows and he will be the last to know. But everyone tells him to be fine.

He stopped being fine a long time ago.

He took all the short-cuts he was allowed to take and they weren't easy, just the same amount of pain in almost not enough time because the streets he went through had no lights and the concrete was torn apart. Confused, stumbling, he walked through everyone of them but now, that he sees where they got him, he wishes he would just have gotten hit by a car. So fast, he wouldn't have felt his bones breaking and crumbling and wouldn't have made a sound. Quiet. Calm. Peace.

But no one had the courage or the grace to do it, nor did they even thought about it. They just want his best, he tells himself. Everyone ever and only wants the best for him. Once, he used to think he knew what was best for him. It seems like time had changed this concept and took his freedom and replaced it with pressure. He is not sure if time is allowed to decide such things, but he is not the one to judge. He never has been.

*

'Why' they ask him and he thinks about it when he's standing on the bridge leading to the sea. The answer is easy but he had to ponder about it for a long time before he was able to return the offer they made him with this word. Why, is what they all want to know, what he wants to know, and the answer is so obvious you could not see it if you were wandering through your life blind and deaf. So he doesn't wonder anymore. Numbness is a blessing. He blinks.

Why is the question.

“Losing” is the answer.

He lost all he ever called  _mine_. And most importantly he lost himself. Somewhere, down the road.  


**

 

_“only time is ours, the rest we'll just wait and see.  
Maybe you're right babe, maybe.”_

 

**  


A failure, is what he is. A mistake made decades ago. Maybe, he was ( _is_ ) right then.   


****

 

Adam blinks. One time, two times, three times. Theo watches him attentively because this is important right now, Adam's  _answer_ is really important.

“So, you're in love with me.” the older one says then, slowly but surely, as if he just wants to know if he isn't mistaken.

 _Of course_ , Theo thinks and represses the urge to roll his eyes with full force and all the power he has. This is important, he reminds himself and Adam's blue eyes are a not calculated distraction appearing in his point of view.  Damn this man and his looks. 

Theo can’t remember the exact moment he fell for Adam, and maybe because it was a long and steady process. They had to end up here someday anyway.

“Yeah, yeah.” he answers a bit late and swallows. His throat is so dry and his mouth could be a nice replica of Death Valley.  _Great_. “I – uhm” he stumbles over the words ungracefully and asks himself where the spotlight is when he needs it. “Yeah, I think I'm in love with you. I love you.”

Usually Theo is not the person to say 'I love you.' and he is definitely not one of those teenage girls who get sweaty hands, while they're talking to their crush. He's a grown up man, but, unfortunately, he doesn't know where the adult in him went. Maybe it likes to play hide and seek.

“You do?” Adam asks and raises an eyebrow, giving the impression of a very skeptical judge.

Theo blushes.

“Yeah. Really.”

“Yeah, really.” His friend echoes and his eyes trail off to stare into the void. Theo tries to not imagine what Adam is thinking right now and it only works partly.  _Fantastic_.

“Well, then I guess today's your lucky day.” A small smile appears on his guitarist's beautiful features and Theo blushes even more and he bets if Paul and Lael would be here they would never let him live this one down.

“What?” He eventually asks, only to make sure. You can never be sure enough, Theo likes to say all the time, after all he's a man with principle. Yes, Theo Hutchcraft is a man with principles.

“I'm kind of in love with you too, I guess? Have been a long time, to be honest.” Adam says in his quiet and calmingly sweet voice, the half-smile on his lips ever present and a reminder that beauty and grace still exist. It was the first thing Theo fell in love with. The next thing were the eyes. Adam is so handsome.

“Thank fuck.” he utters out and his hands move to the lapels on the older one's jackets to get him closer, closerclosercloser, close is all Theo wants. Lips on his own, a body pressed along his, strong arms and gentle hands holding him.

“Thank fuck?” Adam whispers amused and causes the singer to laugh. It's a sweet laugh.

“Thank fuck.” he confirms and then, only the blink of an eye later, they're kissing and Theo thinks finally because he waited way too long for this.

Adam's lips are soft, a bit chipped, and so  _real_ and he is so not lying when he says that he may hear fireworks in the back of his head, the corner of his ears. The kiss is innocent, only pressure and dedication, but Theo doesn't want innocent now. He wants Adam and everything that comes along, he wants the whole package and he wants closeness, always close. Adam is like a drug and he's so high and already obsessed.

“This is a kiss? I want a real kiss, Anderson.” Theo breathes out when they have to inhale and exhale again and now the pianist has to laugh. Breathing is nice indeed but sharing air is so much better

“You're such a demanding idiot, Theo.” Adam comments and then presses his lips firmly against the younger one's, who breaks the kiss to mutter, “But I'm  _your_ idiot.” and then there is a tongue licking its way into his mouth, teeth demanding entry and Theo is more than happy to oblige and everything is immediately wonderful. He could keep on living his life this way.

They kiss until their lips are red and swollen and Theo's hair a mess.

Adam's shirt is tucked out of his pants and the first buttons are open, revealing the softness of his collarbone and the light, almost lucid colour of his skin. He is so beautiful, it has to be a dream, a way too good imagination, and, god, Theo never wants to stop imagining.

“I thought I would have to wait for the rest of my life for this moment.” the auburn haired says into the silence and now Theo rolls his eyes. Only Adam Anderson would say things like this in real life  and mean them. Theo only thinks them and it's better for everyone if it stays this way.

“I'm glad you don't have to.” he eventually answers and links his fingers with Adam's. They look like they were made for each other, Theo notices. Maybe they are.

“I'm glad you love me.” Adam retorts softly and his eyes are of a light blue, like the gentle summer sky around 4.30 am, the colour of hope and calm and they are  _gorgeous_. No one should be allowed to have such unreal eyes, Theo's sure.

“Shut up, Anderson.” He mumbles and blushes. Why is his body such a traitor? It's unfair, really.

“It's good to know nothing changed.”

But it did. A lot, in fact.   


 

****  


 

It's okay, he thought after a while. You go.  


( _I t ' s  n o t_ )  


 

 

**

 

It will never be.

 

**

 

He is drifting through his life these days, his fridge is empty, his shelves are dusty and his bed is a constant mess. He is drifting through his life and he is used to it by now, after a while everyday becomes a known company. It's the only real thing he knows.

The lies are piling up, the misunderstandings too, and there is nowhere for him to hide than the beach. The water cascades down the shore where it crashes against the rough stones, wild and untamed, and there is nowhere to hide. He feels strangely at ease; strangely because ease turned into thick fog in his brain,  gloomy and unfriendly and not welcome, never welcome. He feels alien in his body, he feels and he thinks. Feeling is rare, time drips down the window pane. Feeling is so rare these days.

Snow is glistening on the rooftops, turning the scenery into black and white, black and white and black and white, and it's all he ever sees. He can't remember for the life of his when the world lost his colors, maybe somewhere between summer and autumn, but those passed away so fast that the memory is nothing more than a blinding light breaking through the dimness of his mind. And it leaves him blind and disoriented.

The city is buzzing with life and blood and he is standing on the sidelines, next to the sign of a bus stop, quietly observing the strangers coming by. Some of them have dark eyes and old faces and he doesn't try to look at them, others have kind and light eyes, rosy cheeks and warm hands and, not to his surprise, a memory chases him through the night.

He can't remember in the morning.

But there's a ringing in his ears – and none in his fingers – and he guesses that it was in important memory.  

It happens sometimes, used to happen more frequently months ago, that there will be a stinging, a light, a flash of pictures, haunting him through his kitchen routine or while he's in the shower, never leaving when he's asleep though, and they will stay for a while. They will follow him around like a shadow but after a while they tend to go with the exhaling of a breath, held a second too long.

It's better like this, because the harm will fade away.

He is still falling a free fall and he knows there is no safety net but he falls anyway. It's not his fault, really, he was just pushed into the abyss by love and hope and faith and coincidence and now they are sharing the joy of watching him ruin himself while all he can do is to witness how the picture gets smaller while the distance to reality becomes wider. The fall is muffled, an unusual sound, no sound at all. The fall is quiet and if he wouldn't know better he would say it almost feels like peace.

But it does not.

It never feels like peace.

Nothing is  _peace_ anymore.

Peace left him to run off with the people who deserve it and took happiness and joy and all the light of the day with itself and it left him in a never-ending night. And now, after all, he thinks, he should be empty, and he really is, but there's the faint beat of his glass heart hidden in his rib cage, a place full of denial and pain. A place no one is allowed to no about because it's the only part of his body he can control, the only part real and honest, and honesty is a rare currency these days and he became a poor man when summer left them too early, when autumn turned into one long line of 'I'm fine's and 'Okay's.

The warmth of the sun seems like a magician's trick to him.

All he only knows is the coldness of the sky and the rain and the clouds.

And everything is so grey.

It's always grey.

 

**

 

His insides are rotting away slowly, he's sure.  

The flesh is not pure anymore.

But it's okay, they say.

Everyone does ( _did_ ).

 

****

 

“Adam.” Theo groans and turns his head around to offer the older one more skin to kiss and mark, breathlessly, his hands are gripping the sheets he's laying on, one sensation following the other.

It took not more than maybe a month, two at best, for Theo to get addicted to Adam's touches and now, almost 7 moths later he can't imagine living without them; without the feeling of rough calloused fingers on his skin and passionate kisses in twilight, between stage lights and after glow where the public can't find them. If he could, he would touch Adam all the damn time but unfortunately there is press stuff to do: Interviews, signings, sessions for radio stations, more interviews, small acoustic shows and all while keeping a freshly bloomed relationship a secret and being with the band 24/7. Not to mention that they are travelling the whole of Europe, mostly East and middle Europe, or so he thinks, he’s not too sure, but still.

Exile dropped and made them to stars, bigger ones than they were before, and their fans went wild.

Some days are hard, though. They drag on like chewing gum and never seem to end; these days are mostly the ones where they have to do a lot of promoting, which means all Theo can do is stare longingly at his boyfriend from across the room. Paul makes fun of them way too often but Adam tells him that him and Lael were no better and it's true: they were insufferable in their first year. Sometimes it's a bit mean of the guitarist to say such things but they do the trick and buy them a bit calm and privacy and Theo made himself the promise to use those moments as best as he can. Well, he does right now.

Warm hands are making quick work of the buttons on his shirt, every inch of revealed skin another little victory for Adam, Theo can see it in the gleam of the dark blue eyes, and he himself can feel his trousers straining uncomfortably against his arousal. Adam is laying above him, only giving him the tiniest bit of friction, teasing enough to make the younger one press his hips up to follow the divine sensation.

It's the sweetest torture he can imagine.

Adam nips at the skin of his collarbone now, which is  _definitely_ a good spot and causes Theo to wriggle around and chase the delicate feeling of lust that is buzzing through his veins. He buries his hands in the older one's short hair, back arching when a hot tongue is licking a broad strip up his neck.  _Fuck_ , Theo thinks, he never has been this sensitive.

Then his boyfriend,  _boyfriend_ , it still makes him giddy with excitement to think of his bandmate like this, is wandering down his chest, teasing the lightly tanned skin with kisses and small bites that hardly leave marks – While they're promoting they agreed on a 'no marks'-rule, especially for Theo because if the fans would see him with any kind of love bite they would come up with countless rumors, and this is just the most harmless thing possibly happening – he doesn't want to think of what the press would do.

His thoughts lead into emptiness when he feels Adam's talented fingers on the hem of his tight pants and he moans huskily when they are caressing the bulge tenting his boxer shorts. Swallowing, he props up on his elbows to watch the pianist tugging off his black pants, only half-heartedly trying to bite back the grunt that follows after Adam's hands brush his arousal.

“I hate you so so much.” Theo breathes out and draws the older one closer when he's on eye-level again. Happily they share a passionate kiss, all love and sentiment and Adam chuckles into it, their lips meeting with the ease of sunlight or tropical waves like they did it a thousand times before.

“Stop lying Hutchcraft,” Adam whispers and his eyes are sparkling with joy, lightning up the impossible dark blue of his eyes. The first comparison Theo comes to think of is the night sky, the next a galaxy. It's strangely arousing.

“But you're -” Fingers are ghosting over the inside of his thigh and he has to bite his lip to not make a hugely embarrassing sound.

“Hmm?“ Adam, the  _bastard_ , prompts and Theo has the urge to punch him in the stupidly beautiful face but it would probably ruin the mood so he does not. He's a man with principles, remember?

“you're still fully clothed” He finishes through clenched teeth then.

Fuckfuckf _uckfuck._

When Adam lays his hand on Theo's cock, the singer's brain turns into a muddle of lust and desire because it has been way too long since they have done this and the built up was massive – the teasing already started at the signing, when the guitarist thought it was good idea to lay his hand onto the inside of Theo's thigh. Well, Newsflash: It was not. It was hella disturbing actually and at the end he  _almost_ felt bad for rushing out of the room even though a few of the fans were still there. Almost, because literally everything was better than people noticing how aroused he had been. And Adam's suggestive glances weren't of any help of course.

“And that's the way it should be.” a hoarse whisper is interrupting his train of thoughts, the answer to his protest, followed by two criminally slow drawn-out strokes and a flick of a talented wrist. Theo  _melts_ into the sheets.

“I love you.” he mumbles into the darkness of the room and there is a small pause in Adam's movement – it's probably the wrong place and time to blurt it out like this but the younger one is just so overwhelmed with sentiment right now,  all his thoughts are circling around these three words, and he can't hold them back anymore. Theo only said them once, before, when they were sharing the bed in his master bedroom and Adam was already asleep. It was in January. They've been together since the beginning of August and now it's already March. He's not the person to say I love you.

The movements stop fully now and Theo is opening his eyes: Adam is hovering over him, eyes wide and almost black and unknown, his skin flushed red. He still got all of his clothes on.

“I love you too.” is the quiet answer, calm and sweet, and the adrenaline of the moment decreases until it's a lovely buzz between them.

Then Adam kisses him slow and desperate, a new but not unpleasant kind of kiss, and Theo wraps his arms around the older one's neck to get him closer. He needs  _closer_ now and he is steadily burning under the pressure of Adam's hot body, the heat almost too much to take but he breaths through it because it feels so good. Adam makes him feel this way, only Adam.

'I love you' doesn't hurt as much as it used to.

 

****

 

He's walking over glass and it's breaking, crackling under his bare feet, and the broken pieces are drawing blood and harm, a trail of muddy-red footsteps leading from the start to the finish line, at least they are supposed to – now they only paint circles onto the cold floors of hospitals and rooftops, empty bed rooms mostly, and bath room tiles.

Slowly he is fading away, he knows this. It's only a matter of time until the ghosts will come and get him and he is not sure how to welcome them; if open arms are the proper response or if he should fight against it as he would have done ages ago. He is too weak to fight.

But he is scared, too.

He is scared of losing, losing again, he doesn't want to lose anything anymore – he thought he would have lost everything a year ago, or was it more? Less? - he thought he would be empty, finally. At least he feels like it, has been feeling like this for a never-ending while. It became routine after the first three months. And routine is good,  _stable_.

( _He is not_ )

 

**

 _“Oh, hey, I wasn't listening,_  
_I was stung by all of us, the blind leading out the bored “_  


****

 

The change, the real painful, devastating, change, arrives on tiptoes, so quiet, Theo would have never heard it, no matter what.

Of course he is surprised when he gets the call; Adam's mother rarely calls him and he's been in LA for a week now to catch up with a few of his friends. Adam wanted to spend some time with Paul anyway because they haven't done something in a while, just the two of them, and Theo understands. These days they mostly do stuff together, all four of them: Paul, Lael, Adam and Theo and it's fun most times but he sees why the guys want to do something on their own – they had a life before the relationships and they still are supposed to have one while they're in a relationship. So, long story short: Theo is in America and Adam in London and it's around 10 am when Theo sees the caller ID of his mother-in-law on his phone. He's confused.

“Yeah?”

“Theo? Is this you?” Something about Mrs. Anderson's voice sounds off and he immediately tenses.

Something happened to Adam. Something bad, he can feel it in his bones.

“Yeah it is. What's the matter?” his voice is unsteady and he has to clench his hands into tight fists so they are not trembling, his nails are digging into tight skin.

“He had an accident -” A sob, followed by a swallow, Theo can hear it even through the tiny mobile phone speaker he has pressed to his left ear as if his life is depending on it. Maybe it is. He isn't sure.

He doesn't know if he wants to be sure though.

“With the car – it all happened so fast, you know? I- I-” The words haven't arrived in his brain yet, he doesn't process them. Theo only notices that there are noises on the other end of the line and then he can hear a male voice; It only takes him about 0.001 seconds to recognize who he's talking to – it's James, Adam's brother.

“Theo? It's me, James. Are you sitting right now?”

This question never means any good.  _Never_ , and there's a strange sensation at the back of his throat but he's sitting down nonetheless, on the tiny kitchen chair in his little apartment. His legs are trembling and he can't get them to stop. He's losing control.

“Yeah, I am now. What happened?” Theo asks and he sounds like a stranger; that is not his voice, this is- this is – this is some kind of broken mumble no one would ever recognize.

“He had a car accident about two hours ago. It all happened really fast, he somehow  came off the road – we don't know how but he wasn't drunk – and drove full frontal into a tree. It's bad -”

“Is he still alive?” Theo interrupts James in a quiet but sharp tone because he can't lose it now, he can't lose it, he can't lose it, not now, not ever. He is not weak. He can do this.

Adam's brother is clearing his throat, then there's silence, but only for the beat of a heart, then, “They put him into coma but they say he has irreversible brain damage. He was already unconsciousness when the paramedics arrived and the doctors told us that -” now he breaks off, a crumble and a swallow.

The next words form the only sentence he is sure he won't ever forget.

“There's no hope, he's brain death.”

That's the moment his world is falling apart like a house of cards.

“I'm so sorry” James says, and he sounds as if he can hardly hold back the tears, but that's no problem; Theo can feel them running down his face. They are running away and he feels too paralyzed to follow.

He's losing it.

****  


The world has never been the same ever since.   


 

**

He lost it. 

 

**

 

He is walking down the wet road, his steps slow and unsure, like he's a child learning to walk for the first time in his life. He might be, he can't really remember who he is or who he was, it's a blur in his head and to be honest, he doesn't care.

Winter is over and the mist is lifting off the streets, the warmth is coming back and the trees are slowly gaining their leafs in beautiful greens. It's supposed to be a fresh start, he thinks, but it's not, in no way, and he knows that he will never experience new beginnings ever again and that's okay, probably.

His life ended a year ago.

And that's okay, they say, they all do, Paul and Lael, Pete, and Jak and his mum and his dad and even James does say this – but it won't go on for him and they don't understand. Maybe they don't want to. But a year ago his knees went weak and he fell onto the floor of his clean kitchen and he sobbed, loud and ugly and devastated, and it's all he has ever been since then. And there is no hope for him anymore, no hope left to hold on to when all of his hope went out like a candle in the wind a long time before today, a year, a year is such an endless amount of days, too much to live through all of them, he learned.

It's one of the things he never wanted to know.

His feet are carrying him down the road and up the hill and the clouds are all so grey and he is so used to it by now, it's a terrible feeling.

His feet are carrying him like he's a soldier and maybe he is. He can feel the water drying on his skin.

It's a graveyard.

 

** ** ** ** **  


_“Maybe it was peace at last, who knew?”_

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading.
> 
>  
> 
> hmu on my tumblr henribrl.


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